


Yukigo no Kuroko: The Shadow Stagehand That the Snow Stagehand Plays

by MsSuzuYuki



Series: Yukigo no Kuroko [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, Family!Seirin (later - MAYBE), Final Pairing: Ogiwara/Kuroko (subject to change?), Gen, Mild Language, POV First Person, SI!Kuroko, SI!OC, Self Insert into Kuroko, Self-Insert, Starts from Childhood, Substantially Rich Kuroko, Sudden Body Transfer?, Teiko arc, Warning in First Chapter, exploration of character, fem!Kuroko - Freeform, female Kuroko - Freeform, lots of introspection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSuzuYuki/pseuds/MsSuzuYuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be a kuroko means to be in the shadows, to be there yet remain unnoticed. Just as Tetsuya was a Kuroko, I would be too -- but of a different kind: I would be a Yukigo, a phantom. [Tags: Self Insert, SI!OC, SI!Kuroko, Fem!Kuroko, Eventual Ogiwara/Kuroko]<br/>* Cross Posted to fanfiction.net<br/>** WARNING: Mature for a scene in the first chapter: mentions of a traumatic death. //Please read at your discretion.<br/>*** Excerpts/updates on my tumblr: <a href="http://mssuzuyuki-writes.tumblr.com/">MsSuzuYuki-writes</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Yukigo no Kuroko: The Shadow Stagehand That the Snow Stagehand Plays

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** n/a  
>  **Title Note:** A yukigo, like a kuroko, is a stagehand in Kabuki - except, they would wear all white, and would be used for snow backgrounds. They have the same function, but are aesthetically different. This is what I had in mind for my SI/OC - she basically will play the same part (“Tetsuya”) but, she will look different and function differently.  
>  **Timeline:** I'm using the fact that it was published in 2008 as a timeline indicator. That is, Kuroko is 16 in 2008 - so this story (Childhood Arc) is set in 2001.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I inconspicuously checked my pants - okay, one crisis averted, I’m still a girl._  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Graphic (-ish?) description a body going splat in the second last scene of this chapter. It’s probably going to be the only very graphic scene in this story... (Er, I make no promises though. I think there might be a fight scene...because, Nijimura?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be around four chapters of Childhood Arc, then I’ll go through chronologically to Teikou Arc. I haven’t planned Teikou Arc just yet, but I have a rough idea of where this story is heading. I won’t even think about Seirin Arc until I’ve almost finished Teikou Arc…  
> As a side note and as question to any readers I have: I’ve already decided on a pairing, but would you like a side story with different pairings, or GoM/Kuroko, etc? Let me know, I might write it. Maybe. Convince me?

“Tetsuko-chan? Tetsuko-chan… It’s time to wake up from your nap now…”

My eyes twitched, blinking blearily open to the sound of a familiar (not at all, who is that?) elderly woman’s voice calling from the distance. I registered the hum of the television - a sports channel, basketball it seemed - and immediately wondered, since when did I watch a sports channel?

“Good morning, obaa-chan…” The words came to me with little thought, and I noticed that my voice was strangely high-pitched, though cracked from disuse after sleep. The old woman was not actually shaking me awake, it seemed, and was probably in the kitchen if the smell wafting through my nose was any indication.

I gazed down at myself still half-asleep, and even in a boyish t-shirt and shorts, the heat of summer was uncomfortable in the living room as a light sheen of sweat clung to the back of my neck. ( _Since when did I wear boyish clothes?_ ) Yawning, I picked myself up from where I had fallen asleep from the couch, and then paused as I saw glimpse of my reflection on the still playing but dimmed television.

That was definitely not my face - not that short light blue hair, nor those sky blue eyes, nor those baby-like…no, _child_ features - but it was not difficult to recognise those features.

They were very distinct, after all.

Kuroko Tetsuya. That was _Kuroko Tetsuya_ ’s face - from _Kuroko no Basuke_. The boy with a presence so small he scares you shitless despite being there from the beginning, Teikou’s Phantom Sixth Man, and the Shadow to the Shadow-Light pair in Seirin - _that_ Kuroko Tetsuya.

I inconspicuously checked my pants - okay, one crisis averted, I’m still a girl, which should have been obvious since Kuroko’s grandmother-- ‘my’ _obaa-chan_ , called me ‘Tetsuko’. No gender confusion for me, at least. No offense. Just… God, I don’t even want to think about it.

Now, the only problem was - _fuck_ , I was a _girl_ , so the whole _Kuroko no Basuke_ plot just got flushed down the toilet. ( _Wow, my fangirl priorities are showing._ ) I’m pretty sure, anime or no, there is a rule that the teams are _all male teams_. Pretty sure, at least. It was in the name, you know, boys’ basketball.

In any case… It’s not my problem. My problem is to find a way to _get home_ , adjust to being a _fucking child_ again until I could get home, and to not let Tetsuko’s family catch onto the fact that some random _stranger_ , basically, _is possessing their child_. (There, _I set my priorities straight._ )

(Because, who wants to deal with a MPD-and-scissors-wielding captain, a clingy hyper-fanboy for a model, a standoffish tsundere-turned-carrot, a friend-turned-asshole of a basketball idiot and a childish, snack-obsessed giant? I know I don’t. Kuroko -  _Tetsuya_ , I should refer to him as before it gets confusing - must have had the patience of a _saint_ , honestly.

I breathed in, somewhat amazed by my nerves of steel, because usually I would be having a panic attack with this amount of stress accumulating. (If exams gave me insomnia, _this_ should make hysterical, right?)

“Tetsuko?” Tetsuko’s grandmother walked in through the hallway to the living room. “Are you up? It’s snack time, now.

“I’m up, obaa-chan.” I replied, once more it was as though the response was programmed to spill from my lips.

The old woman, skin wizened by heavily creasing wrinkles, walked towards me at gave me a firm, doting pat and helped me stand from the couch. As a mentally twenty year old in a child’s body, I was mortified, until I looked down and took notice of how high up the couch was and _how short these legs were_ and _shit, I’m going to fall_.

“Tetsuko-chan?”

I looked up and met obaa-chan’s worried, brown eyes and immediately tried to calm down. The woman frowned imperceptibly, bringing a worn hand to my forehead and hummed. “You don’t seem to have a fever, are you feeling alright Tetsuko-chan? Light-headed, dizzy?”

I shook my head. “I’m alright, obaa-chan. It’s just the summer heat, I think.”

“Mm, if you’re sure, Tetsuko-chan.” Wiping her hands on her grey half apron frock, she gestured for me to go down the hall. “Go wash up then head to the kitchen, okay? Make sure to splash your face with some cold water. I’ll have a nice cold drink waiting for you.”

“A vanilla shake?” I couldn’t help but ask, the words unbidden.

“Hm,” She made a motion of mock thought.

“Please?” I stared at her with a small pout.

“Oh, alright, Tetsuko-chan. I know how much you love those vanilla milkshakes.”

“Thank you, obaa-chan! I’ll go wash up now!” I smiled brightly at her, skipping ( _have I always had this amount of energy?_ ) down the hall and to the bathroom.

(Children really do bounce up from anything, don’t they?)

* * *

After flushing then washing my hands, I took a good, long look at my reflection proper.

Even as a girl, I did not look too different from Tetsuya from that one childhood flashback scene with Ogiwara. The only difference was that, while still short, Tetsuko’s hair was longer (if only a slight tad) than Tetsuya’s had been, giving her an androgynous look.

Well, that’s one way I could go about ensuring the KuroBasu plot would work out - pull a Mizuki from _Hana-Kimi_ , or more likely a Haruhi from _Ouran Highschool Host Club_ , because there was no way I could hide this from Akashi or the school board.

Right, the school board.

“Yeah, I don’t think _that_ will happen.” I snorted quietly and stared at Tetsuko’s small hands.

“How old is this body, anyway?” My brows furrowed as the number nine floated into my consciousness. “Nine?”

It sounded right... Just like the fact that: I knew I didn’t have any friends; my parents, Kuroko Tetsuo and Hiyako, were often away on business trips; I liked books to the point my obaa-chan often would take me to different bookstores to widen my collection; and it was currently the beginning of summer vacation.

“Wait... I shouldn’t know any of that...” I grunted as a headache struck my temple, the pain making me shake and fall to my knees for a moment before it receded. “This is… going to take some adjusting to, and I really would rather just go home…”

“If I can’t… Well… Then the story will happen… But, I’m not going to remember what happens indefinitely, I really should write it down. In code. With cute, little  _piyo-chan_ representations of people. Yeah.” I murmured, slapping some water onto my cheeks and sighing at the cold offsetting the heat, after staggering to get up. “This is crazy. Straight out of a fanfiction.”

“… How did this happen, anyway?” I stared blankly into the mirror as I pondered the question, but there really was no answer to be given. “A dream? A coma dream? A weird afterlife...? Did I _die **…**_?”

Closing my eyes, I recalled working on an assignment for University due the next day, then some procrastination before rewatching the Teiko Arc of the third season and falling asleep sometime between I’ve-forgotten-how-to-receive-your-passes-Kuroko Aomine and shit-just-got-insane Akashi.

My eyes snapped open as a thought came to me.

“ _Shit_ ,” I cursed, in English, and inwardly winced at my butchered native tongue. “ _What the fuck happened to_ Tetsuko _?_ ”

(There was no answer.)

“Tetsuko-chan?” Obaa-chan's voice cut through the silence, calling from outside the bathroom door. I was taking too long, it seemed.

“I’m coming, obaa-chan!” I replied back, voice just loud enough to carry to the kitchen.

I shook my head and tried to get rid of the sinking feeling in my stomach as I made my way to the kitchen.

“How will I get home…?”

(I never expected one.)

* * *

“Tetsuko-chan? What’s wrong, is something on your mind?” Obaa-chan enquired, after seeing me staring at nothing, contemplatively, for a few minutes as I drank her (deliciously sweet) vanilla shake with a curly straw.

What was wrong? Well... What _wasn’t_?

I didn’t really know this woman, despite all the flashes of memories and the lingering (foreign) emotions of familial love I felt for her. I was also a twenty-year-old woman in a nine year old girl’s body. If I was at least _born_ as Kuroko Tetsuko, then I could infer reincarnation but... _this_  was entirely different.

The shoes of Kuroko Tetsuya were large ones to fill, indeed. He was strong, perhaps not physically, but mentally, with a resolve that would have made Reborn from  _Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn_  impressed - probably.

On one hand, I didn’t know if I would make things better or worse if I wasn’t there. For all I knew, there would be another to take my place. Another, who wouldn’t have the love and passion necessary to force the Generation of Miracles off their high horses in high school, and who wouldn’t advise Kagami of his potential or become his shadow. Someone who would buy into Teikou’s absolute victory crap. Worse than Tetsuya did, anyway.

(An unknown, but this wasn’t a life or death situation - more like a ‘should I mitigate a handful of genii and their asshole problems or not’ situation. Aside from Akashi, they would be fine, since I’m of the unprofessional opinion that Akashi _needs_ a psychiatrist, and for his father to be fucking reported. Not that that would help, he might end up in an orphanage, and that would probably make him worse. It’s not like his father was actually introduced as a character, except for that one time he had dinner with Akashi and just spouted something about being the best because they were _Akashi_. It might have been his father’s gruff way of encouragement, it was difficult to tell without actually meeting the man. Most likely, the man was just broken up after the death of his wife. While that wouldn’t excuse any assholish behaviour, it would make it somewhat understandable. It would have been like an Aomine-Tetsuya situation where Tetsuya left first.)

On the other hand, I was ambivalent to basketball as a whole. I didn’t like nor dislike it, and before I wasn’t really into sports in the first place. I would be literally starting from the bottom, since I didn’t have any prior knowledge outside of _KuroBasu_  and the _wikia_  to fill my knowledge.

Decisions, decisions.

A part of me felt ashamed that I was considering how to move the plot and also for having such a shallow reason to start playing the sport. If I stopped to compare myself to someone like Aomine or even Akashi, how deep would their passion outweigh my own?

I knew, at the moment, it would be enough to drown me.

I would just be a fake Tetsuya - and that wasn’t what those messed up bastards needed, they needed the genuine article.

\-- But everyone starts somewhere, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing to try the sport, at least.

It might grow on me - like bacteria. Or moss. Or... Okay, better stop.

“ _Ano_ ,” I started, taking a large sip to gather my thoughts. “Obaa-chan… I want… to try to play basketball.”

“Basketball?” She blinked, head tilted to the side, confused.

“Mm, basketball… I saw it… on TV…” I murmured, remembering the game that was playing when I woke up.

“Mm, are you sure, Tetsuko-chan?” Obaa-chan frowned worriedly. “Your school doesn’t have a basketball club.”

“I know, but it looked fun,” I started, face naturally impassive as I looked at her directly in the eyes. “I want to play basketball. It’s okay, obaa-chan, I can just learn at the street courts and through books. And, maybe... I can make friends...” The words came out more wistfully than I had intended, accompanied by a dull ache in my chest.

“Oh, Tetsuko-chan,” Her eyes softened. “We can go buy you everything you need once you finish that milkshake, if you truly want to, dear.”

“Thank you, obaa-chan!” I smiled.

I didn’t really understand what was happening, but, that’s alright, I’ll work it out.

Eventually.

Maybe.

Because, there were good people who would get hurt if I didn’t do anything, even if I had known them like one would know a celebrity. There was also Kiyoshi’s leg, the opponents that were traumatised by their utter defeat by the Generation of Miracles, and Ogiwara Shigehiro to consider. Though, the last one may be a mute point if there was no promise between him and Tetsuya to fuel his ambition.

(If nothing else, I could perhaps take a page out of Tetsuya from cywscross’ _When Shadows Meet_ and meet with those teams. It probably wouldn’t have a great impact if I wasn’t a fellow basketball player, though. It might even seem insincere, but it was an idea worth trying if it truly came to that.)

I’ll do what I can for now. I had years, yet, to make up my mind.

For now… Man, this milkshake was _good_.

******Slurp.**

* * *

Despite saying so, obaa-chan didn’t take me out shopping that night.

She was simply too tired to do so.

She was very healthy for her age at seventy-five, and she had her Japanese longevity to thank for it, but she was still susceptible the woes of old age - brittle bones, arthritis and climbing exhaustion.

It made me very worried for her as, though she hid it behind calm cheerfulness, the pain she was in was obvious to my eyes. Obaa-chan was under more pressure than a woman her age should have been in: she was much past her prime and spent most of her time taking care of a young girl for most of her day, along with (only until recently) all of the housework in a very large house.

The only thing that made the situation a tad better was that Tetsuko loved her obaa-chan very much, and purposely did her best to act with her obaa-chan in consideration. It was to the point where she resisted making friends just so that she could be home sooner. She was also a naturally quiet child, something she had inherited from her father (at least, that’s what I could tell from what little memories Tetsuko had of him) and, in conjunction with the invisibility from her mother, this made her pretty forgettable to her peers.

(Children didn’t tend to care about others that weren’t part of their little bubble, or someone that wasn’t fun to hang out with. They preferred someone interesting, which Tetsuko wasn’t, _to them_ at least. To me, someone who was looking from the inside-out, Tetsuko was very interesting, kind and someone I'd like my hypothetical children to be like.)

My own grandparents were several decades younger than obaa-chan was, so I had no experience with how to help with the pain, aside from forcing her to rest when needed and helping with the chores. Tetsuko’s own experiences were on a similar vein: be cheerful (as much as she could be, she wasn’t very expressive even at nine), be helpful, make sure obaa-chan takes her medicine and goes to the doctors, let her rest when she needs to, and make sure to help her with the chores so she doesn’t strain herself.

(I made a mental note to buy books on aged care the next time we went to the bookstore, along with the books on nutrition, sports injuries, basketball and misdirection that I would surely need in the future. Or maybe, buying the former when I could visit alone.

But, from memory, I wouldn’t have to worry about nutrition too much as the Japanese diet was healthy from the get-go, but there may be foods that obaa-chan or I should be eating to stay healthy and in my endeavour to be an athlete.)

It was late, and obaa-chan was both responsible and shrewd enough to not allow a nine year old to shop for sports’ equipment and books on her own. The former because it was expensive (children shouldn’t be handling that much money), and the latter because, if given the freedom to do so, Tetsuko would buy just about every book she could get with her given allowance (Tetsuko was such a nerd, in an adorable, socially awkward way).

In any case, the sun had set already, so there was no point in throwing a fit.

We’d go tomorrow, probably.

It was surprising how easy it was for me to love obaa-chan, even though she wasn’t my own - not really - but at the same time, while a little stern, she was a lovely woman. She genuinely loved Tetsuko, and it probably hurt her that Tetsuko had chosen to not make any lasting friends in order to spend more time with her. Hurt her and filled her with warmth in the same stroke.

Even the _thought_ of friends sent a strange longing I knew wasn’t mine to my heart. If _this_ was the loneliness that Tetsuya felt as well, then, it was no wonder he wanted to see the Generation of Miracles _enjoying_ basketball again. I’m almost sure that it was more than just his own love for the sport, it was the fact that the sport lead him to meet so many friends - first Ogiwara, then Aomine and the rest of the rainbow squad, and even after their falling out, he met Kagami and the rest of Seirin.

I couldn’t imagine how lonely he must have felt until he finally met Ogiwara, and that _Tetsuko_ would have felt that, too, almost made me want to cry. She really was a sweet child, from the memories I could recall in the quiet minutes during snack time.

Moreover, Tetsuko, unlike Tetsuya, was a _girl_ and, as such, was hurt an inexplicable amount more from her isolation by her peers. (That’s not to say that Tetsuya wasn’t, but the types of friendships he would have been longing for were of a different nature.) She would see how all the other girls had a large foundation of friends and acquaintances, a foundation that she was not part of, and remember how left out she felt during each and every lunch hour as everyone talked to their friends.

Like I said before, she _had_ tried to make some friends, she really did, but she was - by her mother’s invisibility - easily forgettable. (She made herself - some genuine, some not - excuses of being too busy helping her obaa-chan, so why would she need friends? She had no time for them.)

(A really sweet child that is no longer inhabiting this body - did I…end up killing her? Is she still here, residing beside me in this body, or has she been displaced altogether?

… I’m starting to wish that this was a more supernatural universe, so that there may be some way to pursue answers. In the _Naruto_ world, I could have potentially asked the Great Toad Sage or some other summon about my situation; in _Bleach_ , I could’ve asked Urahara; and in _Katekyo Hitman Reborn_ , I probably would have had to turn to Kawahira, Aria or Yuni. But, this was _Kuroko no Basuke_ , who could I turn to, here?)

So, that night was spent quietly, with me making a simple dinner of steamed vegetables, fried prawns and miso soup with rice as obaa-chan supervised with the eyes of a hawk.

‘ _Maybe, she has Takao’s Hawk Eyes, too_?’ I pondered to myself, in amusement.

Tetsuko, herself, often watched her obaa-chan when she cooked and knew all the steps, but hadn’t yet tried making anything yet. So, it wasn’t too out of place for me to volunteer to make dinner. She probably would have tried to do so within the next year, or so the flashes of memories I had the time to understand indicated. Maybe I did so with a little too much finesse, more than a child of nine years could hope to have had - if for no other reason than lack of experience - but that wouldn’t be a problem, hopefully.

(This _isn’t_ the _Naruto_ world - it wasn’t dangerous to be seen as a prodigy here, and it wouldn’t have any unseen repercussions. I hope. And I read somewhere that Japan didn’t really do the whole grade skipping thing - or if they did, it was under extenuating circumstances.)

After a pleasant dinner together, a few hours of lounging in the living room watching television (me) and reading (obaa-chan) with the air conditioner on, and a nice bath, it was time for bed.

Well, not for me yet.

I pulled out a notebook from the top drawer (and noted that Tetsuko had yet to do any of her summer homework, which I would make a note to do… eventually) and immediately began scribbling the (hazy) details of the timeline. I never did have the timeline perfectly figured out, but an outline would be helpful in the future. Of course, instead of writing names, I drew birds to represent each of the fairly important characters - _people_ , now - like Ogiwara, Nijimura, the Generation of Miracles, Seirin, Touou, Kaijou, Shuutoku, Rakuzan, Yosen, Fukuda Seihou and Kirisaki Dai-Ichi. Some were more important than others, but there were specific schools I wanted to take a note of (read: Kirisaki Dai-Ichi) because of the irreparable damage they would cause.

I drew each bird chronologically, in the order Tetsuya met them up until Seirin, then I turned the page and worked on separating them by teams. I couldn’t remember every one of the regulars from the other schools aside from Rakuzan and Seirin, but I did my best with what knowledge I had.

I paused drawing when my hand started to cramp, but persisted to write just a little more detail - in English, something obaa-chan wouldn’t understand - and then wrote the tentative matches between the schools in the InterHigh and WinterCup, along with notes of things that happened in Junior High School.

An hour and a half of work later, I had a total of about ten pages of drawings and writings, and an aching right hand. Flexing my hand, I packed away my notebook, switched off the light and headed to bed.

It had been a long day.

* * *

_I was floating._

_The wind blew, and I had to close my eyes as my long, black hair whipped my face._

_As the wind settled, I opened my eyes to a blue, blue sky._

_(Long black hair, dark brown eyes, short and pale skin - that was me. That’s how I should be.)_

_It was breathtaking._

_I was floating on wisps of clouds, something not physically possible, and although I knew I should have been afraid, I didn’t really feel it._

_Instead, something warm, soft and fluttering, settled into my mind._

_I took the time to look down at my hands, noticing that they were my hands - my original hands._

_Or, at least, I think they were._

_The more I pushed to remember things, the more they slipped my grasp. I couldn’t recall the face of my family or friends, nor their names, yet I could still feel emotions towards them. It was like I had lost a part of them, my memories fragmenting with but the emotional attachments remaining._

_The wind picked up again, though this time I shielded my eyes with a swift hand, and when it calmed again, I stood face-to-face with Tetsuko wearing the Seirin girls’ uniform._

_“Greetings,” She greeted with an inclination of her head._

_I blinked, before returning the gesture. “Hello there.”_

_“You will be a shadow.” She blinked back at me, her face impassive, and stared with her large, ocean-deep blue eyes. “It’s a little lonely, but you like your solitude, so you’ll be fine until you find them.”_

_“... Excuse me?”_

_I was not following this at all._

_“Thank you for showing me what you know. I think I can rest easy now.”_

_Her body was fading, falling transparent to my eyes._

_“Wait, what?” I was numb with shock - what was happening?!_

_She smiled at me with a happy grin, the only part of her opaquely visible was her head. “Take good care of them.”_

_She paused, a face of sudden realisation schooled behind an impassive face._

_“Oh, I’m afraid that it’s--”_

* * *

“--time to get up, Tetsuko-chan!”  
 ****

Snapping awake, I blinked blearily at the pale blue walls and white ceiling. Bringing a hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the blinds, I let out a quiet sigh of discontent.

What a weird dream - or was it an image conjured by my subconsciousness?

“‘I can rest easy now’... ‘Take good care of them’...” I sighed to myself as I pulled the covers off. “If that’s not some sort of message that I’m stuck here, I don’t know what is.”

Me becoming Tetsuko wasn’t a dream, it seemed.

Languidly, I scooped myself out of bed and, with my head buzzing, moved through Tetsuko’s morning routine of brushing her teeth, washing her face and fixing her ridiculous bed hair.

(It really was a hideous thing to behold in the morning, especially with my own two eyes. I think I’ll be growing it out just to avoid this hot mess in the future. Or would growing it make it worse...?)

Blinking at my now-child reflection, I simply sighed and averted my eyes away from the reflective surface.

I still wasn’t truly comprehending my situation, I think.

I wondered if my parents were mourning for me, but with each thought, it was more difficult to picture them. The image of Tetsuko’s parents superimposed onto my own, each and every time I thought specifically of ‘my other life’.

Was I losing myself?

I clutched a hand to my temple as another headache began to surface, groaning in the back of my throat.

The pain stopped, however, once I stopped thinking about my (real) parents, leading me to sigh and slump down limply against the cold tiles of Tetsuko’s bathroom. Willing for the residual aching to stop, I shivered and rubbed my hands over my shoulders before taking a long, steadying breath.

“Just don’t think about it, not yet, it’s too soon.” I muttered to myself. “I can’t do anything like this. And if obaa-chan decides to get me _help_ , I don’t want to know the kind of trouble that would cause.”

Because, what _could_ I say that wouldn’t end with me being thought of as crazy?

(Nothing. Being truthful wasn’t an answer, not in this situation. It wasn’t _normal_.)

Padding out of the bathroom, I moved to Tetsuko’s closet, pulling out a pair of brown shorts and an oversized white cotton shirt with a singular, teal stripe across its midsection. Putting it on, I stared at my reflection dubiously (and absently noted that Tetsuko’s face really didn’t change expressions that much and, except for my panic attack the day before, was very controlled despite any inner turmoil) at the sight it made.

The outfit vaguely resembled Chihiro’s from _Spirited Away_ , only with a change in colour scheme. It also made Tetsuko look more like a Tetsuya. I was totally going to grow out my hair, all the draft I can feel on my neck was quite irritating.

I blinked bewilderedly when my hand reached into a drawer to retrieve a teal coloured ribbon. Frowning at the movement (and once again noticing it was just a bare twitch of the lips in the reflection), my hands deftly secured it around my head and tied a neat bow. (Muscle memory, perhaps?)

It was better, and a tad less androgynous, than before.

I wondered if I should capitalise on looking like a boy, before shrugging. It _probably_ wouldn’t matter - and I had already decided to grow it out, so it was a mute point to make.

Pulling on some white socks, I walked out of Tetsuko’s room and went to find obaa-chan.

Today, we’d be getting my basketball equipment and going to the bookstore.

Operation: Learn Basketball is a go, people!

* * *

“Are you ready to go to the bookstore now, Tetsuko-chan?”

Nodding as I steadily held the newly bought basketball under my left arm, I let obaa-chan lead me to the bookstore not too far from the sports store we had just visited. In obaa-chan’s hand other hand was a bag containing a new set of sports clothes (that she had insisted I get) and several sweatbands (because they were _Tetsuya_ ’s thing, so why not?). I had stopped her before she could insist on buying basketball shoes with the logic that I’d just be playing on the outdoor courts and wouldn’t need the fancy (expensive!) shoes, since they’d just be ruined after a week or two.

Obaa-chan, despite how she looked, was not as frugal as I thought she would be. Or, she just liked spoiling her granddaughter, it was very possible.

Gripping the ball loosely, and unwilling to start dribbling it in case I lost control of it, I turned to do some more people watching.

It was quite strange how familiar this particular strip of shops were to me. Even stranger was having Tetsuko’s memories and thoughts filtering through my mind as I looked at an individual shop or person around me. It was uncanny how observant of her surroundings she was, and she knew at least a little about each place - be it the owner, an employee or the frequent visitors of the shop. It put Tetsuya’s hobby of people watching in a new perspective, and I wondered if I could keep up with it - it was interesting to know these things, and made me feel like a detective.

Every shop I looked at on the way to bookstore lead to new facts or observations. Like the flower shop that was owned by the family of one of Tetsuko’s classmates, with said classmate often bringing small bouquets to decorate the classroom; or the traditional teahouse that obaa-chan’s friend owned who provided generous discounts to regulars; or the small jewellery store that employed the older sister of one of Tetsuko’s upperclassman; or the arts and crafts store that Tetsuko frequented after school to spend her pocket money, once or twice a week, for cute stationery because they had the best deals.

One of the places that stood out to me was a particular convenience store that had its wares tailored for the many elementary and middle school students that frequented it. It was almost to the point that it may as well have been a candy store instead. The owner of the store was an old woman who adored children, and would often have new stock each week on special or sets of limited edition flavours. She also had the best deals for ice pops, especially during this time of year, in Summer. Tetsuko was quite particular to the vanilla flavoured treats the woman had in stock, especially the soft creme vanilla candies.

Filtering that information in my mind, I wondered if I should take Murasakibara to this store someday (if we ever met), since it was the exact kind of place he would eat up - literally.

It was too bad that it was summer break, otherwise I would have been able to know if I lived near Teikou or Seirin by trying to observe teenagers walking by in their uniforms. Probably not the latter, though, since it _was_ still a new school in Tetsuya’s first year of senior high school, it probably hadn’t been built just yet.

Looking up once we arrived at the bookstore, I felt a swell of content rippling through my consciousness as a barely contained smile bloomed across my lips. It was a fairly large store, with plain glass windows that let outsiders see into the store, and a large, singular door by the counter to enter and exit from. Inside were warm red carpets, tall shelves filled with books and, in the back, a quiet reading area complete with vending machines and a barista.

It was very homey, and I could see why it must have been Tetsuko’s most frequented bookstore, if the way the sales clerk greeted me warmly was any indication. I nodded a cheery greeting and practically dragged obaa-chan further into the store.

Obaa-chan took one look at me, shook her head in amusement and stopped me from dragging her any further. Taking the basketball out of my hands before depositing it into the shopping bag she was holding, she gave me a pet on the head with a wry smile.

“Go on,” She shooed me away, pointedly walking towards a comfy looking chair in the sitting area. “Take your time, your obaa-chan will be waiting for you here.”

Nodding excitedly with a strange bubbly anticipation in my gut, I practically skipped to the sports section. It was another eerie moment of my body being on autopilot as it methodically perched to grab a book, skim reading it, before finally putting it back or setting it aside in a neat pile.

Looking through these books, running my fingers down its spine, flicking through its pages and comprehending what I was reading made me feel an inexplicable amount of pleasure. It was strange, but perhaps these were imprints on how Tetsuko herself felt when reading - or maybe it was from being able to understand much more from her reading due to my knowledge mixing with hers? Reading, after all, was something I had taken for granted in my other life, and I had been a Japanese Language major before arriving here. Perhaps, she was still inside this body, and I was simply in control because I had the bigger presence - not because of her invisibility but because I was the older ‘soul’? It beared some thinking for later on.

I did the same thing for the books on misdirection, nutrition, and health and safety books, and ended up with a pile almost as tall as myself.

I stared at it dispassionately, knowing there was no way I could get all those books today - I was not lugging around who-knows-how-many kilograms of books back home. Not on foot.

That, and, while a part of me was saying it didn’t matter, the larger, _adult_ part of me found it appalling to request so many considering the invariable cost it would be. Money was not grown out of trees - obaa-chan’s spending habits are already bad enough, and I wouldn’t add to them.

Sighing, I spent another good half hour to cut it down to less than ten books.

In the end, I decided on six books: _Techniques for Guiding Lines of Sight_ , _The Art of Cold Reading_ , _Basketball Skills & Drills_, _The Women’s Basketball Drill Book_ , _Sports Injuries_ and _A Complete Nutrition Guide for Athletes_. Each contained general information of what I needed, were reasonably priced for their size and a good start.

Nodding at my choices, I walked over, books in hand, towards obaa-chan who was simply enjoying a can of cold green tea.

“All done now, Tetsuko-chan?” She asked as I approached her.

“ _Un_ ,” I nodded. “I’ve decided on these ones.”

“Alright then, can you carry them all yourself or would you like some help?” Obaa-chan asked, eying the heavy pile of books in my arms.

“I think I’ll be okay.” I replied, estimating how long it would take before my arms gave out. “I should be okay on the way home.”

“Then, let’s get this done then go home, alright, Tetsuko-chan?” Obaa-chan took two books off the pile, despite my reassurances, at seeing the strain of my arms.

“ _Un_!”

* * *

_That night, I found myself in the sky again._

_It wasn’t daytime, like before, but rather at sunset._

_Reds, oranges and pinks intermixed with the sun’s intense golden yellow hue, and I took a deep breath at the sight._

_Beautiful, yet somehow melancholy._

_I was afloat for a moment longer before gravity pulled me down, down, down._

_I saw the shape of land - large, expansive, blue and green - and if it weren’t for the biting cold, I would have thought I was looking out from an aeroplane window._

_I saw the beginning of skyscrapers a good few minutes into my fall, and I watched detachedly in my descent. My hair whipped in the wind, my fingers were cold, and my heart was pounding, but I felt nothing._

_My mind was calm._

_Perhaps, I was in shock and simply numb to the fall?_

_Or, was it acceptance?_

_Then, the blurs became shapes, and the shapes became people and cars and trees and other minute details._

_I plummeted into the concrete._

**_Crack-- Splat-- Squelch._ **

_The pain hit me all at once as I felt my body make impact. My bones cracked, broken or bruised, my organs ruptured, my arm twisted, my legs bent at an unnatural angle._

_My vision swam and all I could see was the red, red, red of my blood._

_There was a scream._

_A sharp intake of breath and I choked-- I couldn’t breathe._

_There was a rush and cacophony of shoes against asphalt._

_A twitch of my fingers and a spasm of pain._

_There was a hand trying to move my body._

_I was dying._

_There was a shrill ringing of the ambulance._

_The darkness consumed my consciousness as I took my last huff of air._

_Then, there was nothing._

* * *

“Tetsuko-chan? Are you alright?” Obaa-chan asked me, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

I frowned, bowing my head, and shook it slowly. Obaa-chan slipped through the door and held me tightly in her arms until I stopped shaking.

“I’m here, Tetsuko-chan, obaa-chan’s here now.” She soothed, a gentle hand against my head as I clung to her waist.

I had been having to same nightmare for a few days now, and it had gotten to the point where obaa-chan had to wake me up because of how violent they were. Sometimes, I would still remember the lingering feeling of being _broken_ and would end up having a mild panic attack. It took a while to settle down from those.

After the second night, I was plagued not only by _Tetsuko_ ’s memories, but of my own as well.

It was scary how, within forty-eight hours, not once did I truly think about _who_ I was before being ‘Tetsuko’ - that is, I never took the time to think about it.There were things I did that was undoubtedly _me_ , but there points where muscle memory took over - where Tetsuko’s habits bled through, and that was what had lead me through the past few days.

It frightens me that I had almost forgotten my own name - Nguyen Tuyet, one of the most stereotypical names ever given to a Vietnamese female. It downright terrifies me how I _had_ forgotten the names of my parents, friends and relatives. I could still remember impressions of them, of who they were and what they were like, but I couldn’t quite remember what they looked like. It was the same with my memories: the ones that made _me_ , me were still there, and so was the bare bone knowledge or emotion that accompanied them, but names or anything definitive escaped me.

They were like ephemeral wisps of knowledge, but nothing tangible.

Sometimes, I’d catch myself thinking of things that were undoubtedly _Tetsuko_ in nature as a part of _me_. (Like how I wanted to be a Kindergarten Teacher, or a Literature Teacher - something I, myself, was leery about. I wasn’t one to speak to others if I didn’t have to, so why would I want to become a teacher? Then, there’s the fact that _I hate conflict_ , which, being a teacher, would definitely entail into _my job_  at some point. It seemed like a bad idea, honestly.)

My likes, my thoughts, my past… They were beginning to blend to the point it was be difficult to distinguish where _I_ began and where _Tetsuko_ ended.

I sighed silently through my nose.

After a few more moments, I decided it was time to stop moping and to start training for the day. If I wanted to keep up with the Generation of Miracles, I needed to make sure that I didn’t slack off, average constitution or no.

“Tetsuko-chan?” Obaa-chan called again, softly.

“I’m okay now, obaa-chan,” I gave her a brave smile. “Thank you.”

‘ _It’s time to get to work._ ’

* * *

It had been two weeks since I had started my self-made goal of learning basketball, and one week since the nightmares had (thankfully) stopped.

I can say with great confidence…that I have no idea what I am doing.

I’m hoping to all Gods out there that I’m doing all these drills right, because the only thing I have is a _God damned book_ (well, books, plural) to show me what needs to be done.

(And, as a proper _KuroBasu_ fangirl, I have checked, and vaguely remember, the _theory_ of Tetsuya’s techniques - it was putting it into practice that was more difficult to handle. And the shortened, muscle-less limbs. Not that my prior impressive height of 153 centimetres was any larger, but... _Perspective_.)

The plus side was that, unlike when _I_ was this age, Tetsuko was a lot healthier. With the combination of both her diet (aside from the vanilla shakes) and more active lifestyle (despite her not doing much sport), she had me truly beat, hands down.

I continually rotated between the three nearby courts in hopes that I’d meet get to meet Ogiwara, Tetsuya’s childhood friend, but I had yet to meet the boy. Then again, I was starting a whole two years before Tetsuya did - I wonder how that would change everything…the whole me being a _girl_ thing, aside.

In any case, my routines started with the ‘triple threat’ position, going through to a dribble, a shoot then a pass to the left, right, behind, beneath and in front. The latter two I rarely actually executed, though, since I wanted to wait until I was more used passing and the drills in general.

Then, I would start practicing free throws. _Those_ weren’t going well because: first, being _this short again_ was not conducive to my aim - it was out of whack; second, even in my other life I wasn’t very athletic (mostly due to lack of effort) and Tetsuko wasn’t any better; third, this ball was heavy - or, more aptly, _these arms were weak_ ; and finally, I didn’t know the proper form, and trying the phantom shot from the free throw line wasn’t working either.

After missing for five or so minutes, I moved onto passes with a brick wall - chest passes, overhead passes, bounce passes and so on - all the while wondering how Tetsuya practiced this on his own. Passing was something that really required two people, so if he did it on his own, it was no wonder that he found it difficult when he tried it in his first competitive game. Aside from nerves, there probably wasn’t enough time for those passes to be instilled into Teikou’s team play yet. Or so I gathered, theoretically, at least.

Next, I moved onto dribbling drills that I had found in _Basketball Skills & Drills_ (because the internet was not the greatest source in life, er, yet). If I wanted to recreate Tetsuya’s vanishing drive, they were a _must_ : around the world, figure eight, a crossover (this one especially), just _walking_ while dribbling (... I almost hit my chin a few times, and one time my temple, but please don’t judge me), then running while dribbling, _and then_ zigzag dribbling (... much, much later).

Aside from the near head injuries, dribbling was becoming second nature the more I practiced. Thankfully.

Lastly, came the other shooting drills.

Once more, I can say with great confidence that I had inherited Tetsuya’s skills in shooting.

… That is to say, none at all.

It didn’t mean that I gave up, just that shooting was not my forte. But still, I worked at it: one-handed shoots (these were met with disdain), shot fakes (this were mildly doable, since they were _fakes_ ), and mikan drills (constant layups; these were _better_ but not by much).

(It took three times the amount of practice to be competent as any other drill, and there was some hesitance to my stances every time I took a shot. I constantly kept thinking about the Phantom Shot, and about Akashi’s warning of the need to ‘throw away all useless knowledge’ aside from passing. But then, I would figuratively knock my head in and realise that _I’m not_ _Tetsuya_ , and his play style would be useful but not the end-all of _my own_ play.

… Why did I take up the monumental task of filling Tetsuya’s shoes, again?)

I left out dunking - I was too short, the basket was too high, and I could not jump that high - I don’t think I’d ever be able to dunk, in all honesty. And, if I ever went to Teikou… I would leave the dunking to Aomine, on the assumption that _girls can even play on a Boys’ Team_.

Which, as I keep mentioning, _boys’ team_ , didn’t seem likely.

Maybe I should think of being a manager, like Momoi was?

And after an hour or two of these drills, I worked on my physical condition training: interchanging running laps and suicides with the balls of my feet, squat jumps, skipping rope, line jumps, dot drills, wall-sits and foot-fires. Some were done at the court, others were intermittently spread throughout my day. It all depended on how convenient it was to do so. The ones I did at the court were usually done for half an hour, though sometimes I did a mix for shorter periods of time, before returning home for the day.

It all sounded very impressive in writing, but most of the time I was lagging with a snail pace crawl in endurance, and everyday my body ached so much despite remembering to do stretches before and after my ‘routine’.

Some days, it was difficult to motivate myself to  continue practicing while alone. Those days, I would spend more time practicing simple magic tricks and having my obaa-chan watch me perform them (all with flair and pomp to make _Kaito Kid_ proud) while adopting Kaito Kid’s “ _don’t forget your poker face_ ” philosophy.

* * *

_End of Chapter One >> Proceed to OMAKE [See The Other Story in this Series]_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this first chapter… whoops?
> 
> You will see my self insert constantly bouncing back and forth between referring to things as “mine” and “Tetsuko’s”. This is done on purpose, since at times, SI!OC still thinks of herself as a separate entity - but by the Teiko Arc, this should be resolved. Probably. No promises.
> 
> This was supposed to be my light hearted series. Uh, I hope it will be. I have several more SI’s that _aren’t_ (primarily) light hearted to get through that have about 30 pages of work - a Death Note one, a Durarara one, a Bleach one and a Naruto one. I’m not sure if I’ll ever post them... But they exist, lol.
> 
>  **Books Mentioned:**  
>  Made Up/From Canon (Anime):  
> “ _Techniques for Guiding Line of Sight_ ” is the book Kuroko picks up in Season Three, Episode 13 when he’s looking for how he can utilise is lack of presence.  
> Books from iBooks (i.e. Real Books)  
> I found the following from iBooks (but that doesn’t mean I actually used information in said books, just pilfering the title--):  
> “ _The Art of Cold Reading_ ” (by Steven Peliari) is a short ‘book’ I found in iBooks - it’s free, so, you can read it too. It’s pretty short, just a few pages long.  
> “ _A Complete Nutrition Guide for Athletes_ ” (by Aaron Wisewell) is a pretty cheap book ($3.99 AUD) on iBooks and details what the title implies. Yeap.  
> “ _The Women’s Basketball Drill Book_ ” (by Women’s Basketball Coaches Association) is another book found from iBooks - it costs $24.99 Australian dollars, so no, I did not buy it.  
> “ _Basketball Skills & Drills_” (by Jerry Krause and Others) is a book that details the basics of learning basketball. It costs $30.99 Australian dollars, I also didn’t buy it.  
> “ _Sports Injuries_ ” (by Malcolm Read and Paul Wade) is a giant book on iBooks that details common sports injuries and self-therapy. It also costs like $72.99 so yeahh, totally didn’t buy it. But. It exists~! :DD
> 
>  **Anime/Manga Mentioned:  
> **  
>  Hana-Kimi (Hanazakari no Kimitachi e): A _shojo_ manga series about a girl, Mizuki, who transferred to Japan to see her idol (a proficient high school high-jumper). In order to do so, however, she needs to attend the school her idol goes to as a boy - why? Because her idol attends an all boys’ school. (And more stuff ensues. This has two live action dramas, so check it out~!)  
>  Ouran Highschool Host Club: Another shojo manga series that’s a reverse-harem romantic comedy. The main character, Haruhi, attends a rich school through academic excellence - but because she’s normal, she can’t get a proper uniform and gets mistaken as a boy. Then, she just happens to break a very expensive vase in the Host Club’s clubroom… and has to pay them back by working as a host (only “host club” knows that she’s a girl, everyone else thinks she’s a boy). Makes fun of tropes, a lot. Awesome anime too, totally recommend it~!  
> Naruto: A shonen manga. You… should know it. If you don’t, go google it? 8D;;  
> Bleach: You totally should know this too. See Naruto above. derp.  
> Katekyo Hitman Reborn: A boy who’s known as “Dame-Tsuna (No Good Tsuna)” suddenly gains a tutor in the form of a baby-hitman, and is told he’s to be the leader of one of the most influential mafia in the world. Yeap. Hilarity, character development and (eventual) badassery. The anime never finished animating all of the manga, so I recommend reading the manga~!  
> Spirited Away: Studio Ghibli film~!  
> Magic Kaito 1412: A _shonen_ anime based on the manga series by Detective Conan’s _mangaka_ (this came before Detective Conan). The main character is a - kind of - normal high schooler who learned magic from his late father, along with the phrase “don’t forget your poker face” - that is, don’t show the audience that anything is wrong, or any of your mistakes, and keep up the air of mystery or whatever you want to show them. He finds out that his father was “Kaito Kid”, an internationally wanted jewellery thief, and that he didn’t just die from a trick gone wrong. His father was murdered by a mysterious organisation after something called the “Pandora Gem” that bestows immortality. Kaito then decides to takes up the mantle of “Kaito Kid” and to find this gem first - the gem his father was looking for and that ended his life.
> 
>  **Other Fanfiction Mentioned:**  
>  When Shadows Meet (by _cywscross_ on AO3/fanfiction) - A brilliant two shot of Takao and Kuroko being friends. Just… Read it, if you haven’t already. Read _all_ of cywscross’ fics, really. They are _awesome_. (My own writing is inspired by hers, so… ; w ; )
> 
>  **Other Notes:**  
>  _Piyo-chan:_ As in, chicks. The animal. Like, baby chickens. It’s a thing Fujimoto Tadatoshi does. Just look up “Piyo Kuroko no Basuke” and you’ll see it. ;D

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if you're so inclined to~! o u o Would be much appreciated.


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